


Beautiful Mistakes and Twisted Actions

by lucifers_first



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifers_first/pseuds/lucifers_first
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU College Fic.<br/>After Dean is violently raped the repercussions for him and his family and friends are severe, intense and on more than one occasion twisted mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Anger

Dean was nervous. It had been a long time since he'd seen Alistair this angry. Alistair had refused to tell Dean what was wrong and had simply punched the wall and stormed into their bedroom.

Dean ran his hand through his hair and knocked on the bedroom door.

"Ali? Are you ok?" Dean called, trying not to let the anxiety get too obvious.

"NO I'M NOT FUCKING OK, DEAN!" Alistair screamed from inside the room. Dean winced and tried again.

"What's wrong, Ali? Can I help?"

"Just FUCK OFF, Dean!" was the harsh, cutting reply. Dean felt his eyes fill with tears and a lump rose in his throat. He thought about running out of the house and going to the hospital to see Sam, but before he could the bedroom door opened and Alistair stood there glowering.

"In. here. Now." Alistair growled dangerously and Dean shrank back slightly and Alistair stepped forward, menacingly. "You know what Dean?! I am sick of your shit! Your dumb-ass, little whimpering puppy behaviour and your unwillingness to try anything new with me. Get the fuck in here or I'll come and get you!"

Dean held his arms over his stomach protectively. John used to threaten him like this when Bobby or Ellen weren't home. Dean still remembered vividly the nights he lay, shivering, bleeding, and weak in his bedroom, just waiting for his father to want him again.

"Please, Ali. Please…you…you are scaring me." Dean begged quietly, not wanting to look Alistair in the eyes.

"Shut up, Dean!" Alistair hissed and covered the short distance between him and Dean. Then he grabbed the shorter man's upper arm and dragged him into the bedroom, slamming the door behind them. Dean stumbled over to the window and shrank back against the wall as far as he could as Alistair advanced.

"Dean. Clothes off. Now."

"No. No, Alistair. Please. I don't want to." Dean fought back tears and clutched his stomach even harder. But, Alistair just leapt forward and made quick work of ripping Dean's clothes off, leaving Alistair looking angry and horny and Dean looking frightened and vulnerable.

Suddenly Alistair moved and before Dean knew what was happening, he was on his back in the centre of the bed, bound to the bedpost at his hands, naked, and trying desperately not to let his heart rate get too high.

"Alistair—" he began, feeling the tears damp on his cheeks.

"I swear, Dean, if you tell me one more fucking time that you don't want to I will hurt you." Alistair glared, his eyes dark with fury and lust. Dean sobbed once and felt his heart squeeze tightly. Alistair was going too far with this one...Dean didn't want it.

"Alistair…" Dean whimpered breathlessly. Alistair growled and slammed his hands into the bed on either side of Dean, moving in close so their faces were just inches away. He stayed like that for a few moments, keeping his eyes locked on Dean's. It was growing uncomfortable; Alistair's body hovering just above his own but not touching, the intensity of his hungry eyes making Dean want to sink into the mattress and die. And yet, Dean could not bring himself to look away. His lips trembled and he swallowed hard.

"Why are you doing this, Ali?" Dean asked quietly

"Scared, Winchester?" Alistair sneered. Damn him. Dean shook his head. "Maybe you ought to be. I am sick of you. You are a puny excuse for a partner and well…I've been seeing someone much more interesting for a while. Still, right now, I need some fragile entertainment. Something to break."

Dean had so many thoughts rolling through his head he couldn't think straight…fear, anger, fear, betrayal, fear, desperation. Before Dean had a chance to reply, Alistair bit into the crook of his neck. He pulled the sensitive skin through his teeth, drawing blood. Dean yelped in pain and bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as Alistair lowered his body to cover Dean's. Alistair reached down and pulled Dean's hips tightly to his own, and rolled into him, but Dean was not hard and just whimpered in helpless humiliation and fear.

Alistair detached from Dean's neck and slammed into his lips instead in a bruising kiss. He forced his tongue past Dean's lips. Dean tried to break off the kiss and struggled, but Alistair pushed them back down, pressing them tightly into the mattress and still kissing Dean with furious lust; Dean couldn't move. He tried to cry out but Alistair swallowed his noise.

"Stop, Alistair." he begged.

"No," hissed the older man against his lips. "I don't have to do shit. You're my bitch, and right now, you do what I say." He lifted himself off of Dean and kneeled above his chest, one knee on each side. Dean whimpered fearfully, wishing it would all just go away. Alistair threaded a hand through Dean's short hair, yanking his head up off the pillows. He positioned himself so that the head of his cock was at Dean's lips.

"Suck it now, bitch." Dean demanded, "Swallow it."

Dean was not sure why, but he did as he was told, taking Alistair's length into his mouth with one suck. Alistair's head dropped back as he thrust into Dean's mouth.

"Fucking deeper, golden whore," he hissed, moving faster with each thrust. Tears spilled freely from Dean's green eyes as he struggled to breathe around Alistair, but Alistair was unrelenting.

"I could just fuck your mouth until I cum down your throat," he threatened. His voice was low and thick with something much darker than Dean had deemed him capable of. Why was Alistair so sadistic? Even as the threat fell from his lips, he pulled out of Dean's mouth with a wet pop.

"Or I could just get off right now and leave you here until I want it again." Dean choked back a sob. Alistair 's eyes were dark, so dark. Dean almost couldn't distinguish the iris from the pupil. Alistair lowered himself in between Dean's hips, putting Dean's legs over his shoulders.

"No lube," Alistair snarled, "I want you to feel me."

Dean was expecting at least a finger, but Alistair shoved in, hard, the quickly drying saliva from the blowjob the only thing to provide some sort of barrier to the friction. Dean let out a strangled cry of pain, his hips lifting and twisting off the mattress, but Alistair swiftly pushed them down again and held them still, burying himself in Dean to the hilt. Dean was crying freely, his sobs and cries mingling with his fear and pain in a mad collage of chaotic feeling.

The truth was, as much as Dean had loved Alistair when they had first begun, Dean had always been very scared of the older man he slept with. He was almost always angry and violent, yelling and often throwing punches or slaps at Dean.

However, despite all of that, Alistair had never broken Dean's trust in such a way…until that day.

When he was finished with Dean, Alistair dressed and left the house, leaving Dean lying on the bed, bound and bleeding.

Dean passed out after a few minutes and just before he did, he remembered something…he summoned the last of his strength, reached for his phone, on the bedside table and pressed the speed dial number '6' and waited, eyes closed. He heard the dial tone and then a faint buzzing before someone picked up on the other end.

"Singer Salvage Yard. This is Ellen Singer."

"Mom. I need help," Dean croaked. "I'm…Alistair's house…mom, please."

"Dean? Honey what—?!" Ellen's voice was suddenly frantic, but Dean interrupted her.

"Mom…just come…I can't—"

Then he fell into blackness


	2. The Comfort

Gabriel sat next to Sam on his hospital bed, filling out some forms from administration. He always sat with Sam when he had work to do, because the Winchester hardly even spoke and when he did, it was with a dry humour or sweet sadness that endeared him to Gabriel in a way no other patient ever had.

Sam watched Gabe silently, but Gabriel could feel Sam's eyes drinking him in. That's what they did: took big gulps of reality and sent images of Gabriel into Sam's confused brain. Gabe didn't need to look at Sam to see it.  
That's probably what made Sam, Gabriel's favourite patient…he didn't need to look. Ever. Being around him was like stepping up to a fire after a very cold day, or taking a shower after a particularly violent patient. Sam made him feel so good, even if Sam was insane. The way Sam talked to him, acted, did everything, it was as if reality was sacred to the broken man. Gabe could feel it, on these days they had to themselves, as soon as he entered the room. Like, if he kept focusing hard enough on Gabriel, he could cure his hallucinations and pain.

Suddenly, Sam took a deep breath and drew his knees up to his chest, starting to shake and whimper. Gabriel turned, a sense of dread filling him: Sam was hallucinating again. He knew the signs only too well. Sam was now curled up in a foetal position, shaking so violently he was in clear danger of having another seizure.

"Sam!" Gabriel said, only able to stay calm because of his training. He took both of Sam's hands in his and held them to his chest, "Sam, come on, you have to focus! I am here, Sam, remember use me as an anchor, like we practised. Come on, Sam!"

Sam screamed and writhed, before throwing himself at Gabriel, eyes wild. Sam was so large, that Gabe was thrown hard against the wall behind the bed. His head hit the wall with a crack and star swam in front of his eyes, but he fought through the blur and held Sam's head tightly to his chest. After several tense minutes, Gabriel felt Sam's long arms snake around his waist in a frightened hug.

"Hey, you great lump," whispered Gabriel, smiling and ignoring the pounding in his head. Sam took a shuddering breathe and looked up into Gabe's eyes.

"I don't deserve you," Sam whispered to Gabriel body, and Gabe felt guilt plunge deep into his gut. Sam, the quite, loving boy, who had never asked for anything, not even a cure for his mind, was the only reason Gabe stayed working as an orderly. Sam's complete lack of expectations was like a strange, contrite freedom.

Gabriel took his hand and put it on Sam's head, ran his fingers through the long brown hair. Sam still kept it clean. Sam kept everything clean. Homicidal, suicidal schizophrenic with OCD. That was Sammy's cross to bear. He bore it quietly and without complaint. Gabriel admired Sam…fuck it…Gabriel loved Sam.

"No, Sam," Gabriel whispered, "I don't deserve you."

Sam snorted quietly and Gabriel frowned. Sam would never know exactly what he meant to the other man. Never.


	3. The First Mistake

Castiel closed his eyes and bent his head back, his fingers never moving from the keyboard. He hadn't typed anything for the last half hour, he was waiting for someone. A client. A student. Cas was never sure what to refer to the kids who came to see him as. Being a professor of psychology and environmental science, he tended to double as the college counsellor. His students would come to see him if they were in a mess about exams or a relationship meltdown. You know, normal college stuff. But some students were special. The really messed up ones with the violent families or completely screwed up lives. Only one of those had consistently confided in Cas. Dean Winchester. And he was the most 'fucked up' of them all. He was the one who had called and told Cas he needed to stop by. He was the one Castiel was waiting for.

Bobby Singer and Ellen Harvelle, two good friends of Cas and his wife Meg had adopted Dean when he was 4 and his brother, Sam who has been 6 months, after the Winchester's father John and their mother, Mary were murdered. And if that isn't fucked up enough, Sam was 'batshit crazy' according to the people around town. Meg had seen Sam's file and told Cas what was really the diagnosed issue…paranoid schizophrenia, homicidal and suicidal tendencies, OCD…the list went on. Then when he was 18, Dean came out as gay; no one was too bothered, but, then he started dating Alistair, a thug from outside of Sioux Falls, some people reckoned he was a violent asshole. Castiel knew he was.

Dean would come to him bruised and bloody and he would help him get cleaned up before class, but there was only so many cuts and purple fingerprints you can hide. Everyone knew what was going on, but if he was confronted about it, Dean would just deny all knowledge. Only Castiel knew how much the young man was hurting and what was worse, it had become apparent in the way he acted toward his professor, that Dean may have more than just therapy on his mind. A look here, a touch there, a seemingly casual lick of soft lips in the back row as Cas delivered his lecture.

Now Dean was 23, studying applied sciences and psychology, which meant he was in both of Castiel's classes, something the older man was beginning to regret. He liked the eldest Winchester. Maybe a little too much. It was wrong, very wrong. He was a client, a student and Cas was married…

Cas thumped his fist into the desk next to his computer and forced himself to look at the screen. Forcing himself to focus. Write up his lesson plan. Go home to Meg. Meg, the love of his life. Her dirty jokes that made him laugh so much. The AMAZING sex. Everything about her that turned him on and mellowed him out at the same time. She was his rock. Meg. Meg. Dean's muscled arms reaching out, grabbing him. Holding him—

"STOP!" Cas hissed violently at himself, just as a hurried knock came at his study door. Cas jumped up and in two steps was at the door. He opened it and Dean almost fell across the threshold. His eyes were red from crying and he threw himself onto Castiel's couch, his face begging Cas to join him. Cas sat down and Dean immediately lay on his back with his head on Castiel's lap. Cas shifted uncomfortably and tried to think calming thoughts that would discourage certain primitive parts of his anatomy from getting the wrong idea.

Cas rested his hands on is lap and looked down quizzically a Dean, who slowly grabbed the hand of one of the arms near his head. Dean slid upward slightly to gain a better hold and used his other hand to lightly trace Cas's veins. Stopping at the wrist, he began to drawing small circles around it; absentmindedly. Cas inhaled shakily and peered down at his student, Dean's eyes were closed, his frown had diminished, needless to say he looked less distraught. Cas on the other hand was working up a sweat. Dean was always capable of making Cas feel this way…so out of control. Meg was the only other person that could make him so…hot.

Whenever they were this close, in session or in class; whenever Dean touched him like this: Cas forgot who he was…who they both were. This person who was lusting for a young man could not possibly be Castiel Novak. His heart lurched forward as Dean continued to innocently trace over Cas's sensitive wrist. With a strained swallow, Cas tried to speak, "…s-so, Dean, do you need to talk? Is it Sam? Or school work, perhaps…"

"No, nothing like that," Dean replied quietly. "I don't want to talk today…I just want to be with you…you are the only person who lets me…be." He sounded calm enough, but the way his grip was tightening on Cas's hand said otherwise; it was as if he were afraid his professor was going to float out of his reach. Dean hastily laced their fingers and inched up further until his head was fully on Cas's lap, bringing their connected hands to his chest. Cas tried not to shift uncomfortably. Dean examined the hand in his possession; delicately shifting it from one hand to the other and attentively grazing his thumb across the knuckles. "I just…I don't…You don't know how hard I tried. How many punches I took to make it work or how much I -"

Dean broke off and looked up into Cas's face and then Dean was kissing him. Not being able to talk anymore, he leaned up and kissed him. It was a little off-centred, a tad rushed, but Cas's mind went into auto-drive. The smooth, warm lips beneath him moved so sweetly, that after a tense second, the older man returned the kiss eagerly.

Dean angled his head further back and Cas took the opportunity to better align their lips. The contact was explosive; it reverberated through both their bodies. Dean lifted his arms and took a fist full of Cas's hair; guiding him further down, with a sense of urgency. A sudden shudder travelled through Dean's body and he jerked his lips away steadily gasping for air. After a few moments of painfully awkward silence, felt he had to say something, "You…I am here whenever you need to talk." He removed himself from under Dean and stood staring down at his student, a growing feeling of guilt boiling in his stomach, his lips still tingling with the last embers of warmth Dean's lips had left.

"That….was…not what I expected." Dean said, with a watery smile. He sat up, shifted into the correct seated position, and looked up at Cas.

"Y-you…I don't…this…this was very inappropriate …" Castiel's words were sluggish and he reddened with guilt, "It never…happened…" Dean's face fell at Cas's words and Cas felt an uncontrollable urge to sit down facing the younger man again. Dean wondered if Cas realized that he was gradually gravitating towards him on the couch.

"I need you." Dean murmured, Cas felt his whole body tense with want, but he stayed still, not even moving when Dean leaned further in, closer and closer till their foreheads were literally pressed together.

"You have no idea how wrong this is…but perhaps I can…be what you need once…" Cas's harsh whisper wrinkled across Dean's cheek. The proximity nearly intoxicated him into unconsciousness; he hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath, in fact. He looked into his professor's eyes, which were conveniently located inches away from his own.

"So this will mean….nothing? Secret. Wrong." Dean calmly asked, trying to logically grasp the feelings of a married man about to commit adultery, while simultaneously trying to ignore the sweet smell of Cas's hair and Cas's eyelashes fluttering against his face.

"Sir, I really need you. Please, don't ask me why just hold me." The vibrations of Dean's voice seemed to be triggering a reaction in Castiel. With each word, Cas would inch his chin forward, as if to catch the other's words onto his lip. Cas slowly shrugged, but his eyes held a different answer. The lingering pull on Dean's lips, as they gravitated treacherously close; the sealed space between them was heated with the breath of them both, was sending Dean's senses into a frenzy. "…Oh…" he murmured directly onto Cas's lips; the two were so close that they were practically kissing already. His ears were drowned with the sluggish pounding of his own heart. "Can.." Dean began, but Cas hastily nipped the bottom of Dean's lip in reprimand and earned a small gasp."…I just wanted to -" This time it wasn't a quick bite; Castiel engulfed, no devoured, Dean's entire being. He grabbed Dean's shoulders and steadied him as he forcefully pressed his lips against him; desperate and longing. The sudden urgency and vigor of the action had left Dean almost paralysed.

When he finally stopped, Dean sat, trembling and breathless. "Don't you feel used?" Dean gasped, looking down, a wave of shame washing over him. Cas looked at him in disbelief. Castiel never felt used when he was with Dean, least of all now. The countless times the boy trudged in hopeless and rejected, Cas was there to make Dean feel like he mattered. He didn't mind that. He never felt used. But, something was especially different this time. Something was truly wrong. He tried swallowing his pulse in the intense stillness, ever aware of the lips that still hovered inches away. Dean's lips kept edging back and forth like the swelling of waves, as if he was internally trying to decide what to do. "I don't feel used…" Cas breathed precariously, "I-If it did, it wouldn't matter, because I am here for you…then-"

That helped the decision go along quickly. Dean seized his lips, swallowing his calculating whisper. Cas was confused; Dean was so inconsistent…not that Cas minded at the moment. Dean's tongue began to roughly trace the bottom of his lip, asking...demanding entrance. Cas obliged and allowed him to explore his mouth with a hungry intensity. The two tongues wrestled in a pulsating, passionate rhythm. Cas's brain was flooded with what sounded like television static. The heat was rising in him like a sauna and all of his body was fixedly aware. Dean tasted amazing; like apple pie and ice cream. Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream. Cas's arm floated up behind Dean's neck and he intertwined his fingers into the tiny twists in his hair.

Castiel had lost all control. Dean wasn't his student anymore. There was no right or wrong. There was just the intensity of their passion. Dean was licking and sucking at his lips with such fervour that Cas wasn't sure how far this was going to go.

The fluttering of Dean's heart left him panting and gasping into Cas's mouth desperately. It was then that Cas realised Dean was crying. Shocked and concerned he pressed his hands against Dean's chest, disconnecting them. Dean huffed through his tears and tried to kiss Cas again, but his professor stopped him.

"You can't do this. Not in the state you are in." Cas paused and looked down, then continued quietly, "We cannot do this at all."

Dean's green eyes stared straight up him, realisation, shame and hurt welled in them. Cas looked away, unable to look into those pools of pain.

"Dean, I am married, I am your teacher, and you are my student. Now you can either tell me what is going on or I am afraid you will have to leave. This has already gone beyond anything I could have imagined possible."

Dean paused and then without another word, stood up, adjusted his clothes and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.


	4. The Guilt

“Is that you, Clarence?” Meg called from the living room, as Castiel stumbled over the threshold of their large apartment. Castiel never quite understood why his wife would refer to him as a fictional angel, but supposedly that is what she saw him as. A wave of guilt washed over Cas, on remembering why he was home so late, and what had happened earlier that day.  
Dean. The kissing. The touching. Then the booze. The liquor store. The copious amounts of alcohol. STOP! Stop thinking about it.  
Meg emerged from the living room, she was wearing a black bra, a black garter belt and black stockings, topped off nicely with almost transparent black panties. She smiled innocently at Castiel as he stared at her, open mouthed.  
After four years of marriage Cas thought he would be used to seeing his wife like this. Her dirty mind, was only the beginning of her creativity.  
Cas looked away, punishing himself by denying his eyes what they wanted. Meg sensed something was wrong and strode over to Castiel, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at her.  
“Tell me what's wrong.” she demanded, “Tell me.” She wasn't being aggressive or unkind, she just knew that tough love was the only way to get Cas to open up.  
Cas felt himself wanting to tell her everything, the loyal, loving part of him longing to prostrate himself, asking for forgiveness, promising never to do it again. But the wiser, darker side of him won over. He knew he could not promise it wouldn't happen again. He knew that Dean was his weak spot. So he told Meg he had had a tough day. He had hit a dog with the car. Rolled his ankle on the stairs. Had some students give him lip.   
Just a bad day.  
“Well then, I decree that we start over again, from the very beginning.” Meg said sweetly. “Give me five minutes then come to the study, okay lover?” She winked at flounced off.  
Castiel washed his face in the kitchen sink and loosed his tie. His beloved trench came off too and was thrown over the back of a chair. Cas refused to think about Dean...and instead focused on the thought of what his beautiful wife was planning for him.   
After taking a deep breath, Cas strode to the study and knocked on the door.

“Entrevous.'' Meg crooned from inside the room. Cas entered and grinned almost immediately. His doubts and fears blown away by the magic Meg had made. She had recreated the circumstances of their first 'sexual encounter'. She was sitting behind the desk in a tailored skirt and suit jacket, she had her glasses on the end of her nose and she beconned him in like a naughty child.  
The first time this had happened, he was being discharged from Sioux Fall Clinic for Mental Instability and Rehabilitation. The heroin had gripped him and dragged him down to the pits of Hell, almost literally and had it not been for the team there, lead by Meg, he never would have made it.   
On the day Cas was being released, after passing his psych evaluation test, he had to check in with Meg Masters, the head nurse, before leaving...and well one thing led to another, Meg had her way with Cas and now she wanted to repeat those circumstances...only this time Cas was determined to have his way with his wife, rather that allow her to have all the fun.  
''Well, Mr—uhhh...” Meg looked down at a blank piece of paper, “Mr Novak, please take a seat--”  
This time Cas interrupted her, eager to play the part and forget his troubles. “If you don't mind, miss, I would rather stand.” Meg raised a disapproving eyebrow and stood slowly, before moving around the desk.  
“Well I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave this facility until you have shown cooperation with the staff here.”  
“Oh, I am all about the cooperation, nurse. But tonight, I run the show.” Cas smirked at his wife, who could barely hide her arousal under a stormy countenance. She slapped him lightly across the face, but Cas chuckled.  
“Come on, you can do better.” he said. She slapped him hard across the jaw and in the midst of her shock at her own actions, Castiel pulled her into him and kissed her hard and long. After a moment she returned the kiss with vigour, wrapping herself around him in a tight embrace.  
Castiel lost himself in her, welcoming pure sensation, intoxicated by the feeling of her hips curving into his palms, made drunk by her sweet mouth and her fresh, floral woman-scent filling his nose. She slid her tongue against his eagerly, turning her head and pressing closer, the evidence of her returned ardor making lust roar like a torrential current through his veins. Meg didn’t kiss like the innocent girl next door. No, she tangled her tongue with his wildly, shaped his mouth and created a suction his cock responded to wholeheartedly.  
His hands opened over her round ass. He pushed her against his erection and rubbed her softness against his hardness, uncaring about the lewdness of his actions . . . just feeling. Every nerve in his body screamed with need, just like they had as they had with Dean earlier....NO don't think about that! Kissing Meg was like dipping his tongue into sex-sweet honey.  
He lifted his head after a moment, molding her lips with his own, nipping at her hungrily.  
“I have to have you. Now.”  
“Yes,” she whispered. The feeling of her hands moving anxiously over his back and around to the front of him, stroking his ribs, drove him crazy. He hissed when she drove her fingers through an opening in his shirt and touched him, skin to skin.  
He stared into her wide, dark eyes as he began to unbutton her blouse. As he brushed his knuckles against the fullness of her breasts his cock lurched with longing. She might have felt it, because she murmured his name shakily and craned up to kiss him again. Meg, although macho and forward on the outside was putty in Cas's hands.  
“Let me look at you,” he ordered tensely, guilt washing over him as Dean flashed to the front of his mind again.  
She remained unmoving as he finished unbuttoning her blouse and parted the fabric. Her skin was pale and smooth. The lingerie from before almost more sexy now he had uncovered it himself. She shivered when he slid his hands along the satiny skin at the sides of her torso and reached for the clasp.  
“Oh, my darling,” he mumbled in awe when he’d bared her pale, full breasts. Her nipples were delicate, pink and tight. Lust lanced through him when he held her firm, warm flesh in his hands and lightly ran his thumbs over the succulent tips, making them bead and stiffen even more. He glanced up at her.  
“You’re beautiful.”  
“After four years you're still so amazed when you undress me,” she whispered and Cas nodded smiling. She placed her hand on the back of his head and brought him down to her. He nuzzled the silky curve of a breast, inhaling her scent, before he slipped a nipple into his mouth, lapping it with his tongue. His eyes burned with emotion that he couldn’t comprehend as he suckled her first softly and then, as his desire built to almost unbearable levels, ravenously.  
The pain of her gripping his hair as she held him down to her brought him back to himself—that and the sharp ache of his near-to-bursting cock. He raised his head, searching for a trace of sanity in Meg’s eyes. Almost wishing she would tell him to stop...Dean was in his mind, begging to be kissed...NO STOP.

Instead, he saw the glaze of a fevered lust shining in Meg's depths and knew she suffered as much as he did, but for different reasons. He would have hurried things for himself, but what he saw in the depths of Meg’s eyes made him frantic.  
Or at least that’s what he told himself later when he was trying to justify his actions.  
Cas moved Meg backwards till she was sitting on the desk. He held her gaze as he placed his hands on her skirt and began to slide the fabric up her hips. They both panted into the thick silence. When his palms ran over the tops of smooth stockings and onto the warm silk of her upper thighs, a low growl vibrated in his throat.  
An explosion seemed to detonate in his brain. He turned her in his arms and pressed his cock against her ass. She didn’t balk when he pushed her upper body down, forcing her to bend at the waist. Her hands went out to brace their weight on the desk.  
“I’ll go slow next time, baby. Right now, I’m going to go crazy if I can’t get inside you.”  
Meg didn’t speak, but she turned and met his gaze as he lowered her panties. The sight of her damp parted lips and wide, glazed eyes caused his cock to jerk viciously in his boxer briefs. His face pinched in an agony of lust when he glanced down at her bared ass.  
God, he should stop this. It was madness. He was guilt fucking his own wife.The things he wanted to do to her . . . and to Dean lovely, kind Dean with the face of an angel and a smile that could warm a man on the coldest, bitterest days of his life.  
He wanted to fuck Meg like an animal. He wanted to make love to Dean.  
“Spread your thighs some, Meg.”  
She followed his gruff order, her panties stretched tight where he’d lowered them to just above her knees. He unbuckled his belt rapidly, his eyes glued to the erotic image of Meg bent at the waist, her skirt bunched around her hips, her white ass and the tantalizing glimpse of her pink flower between her spread thighs. He’d fantasized about how she looked under that prim, nondescript skirt.  
His fantasies paled. Nothing compared to the rich, carnal feast spread before him. However it was but carnal, at this moment the love he pledged to Meg was gone and replaced my a self-loathing lust he could not control.   
He’d never wanted to put on a condom less, but he was careful to do so, they were not ready for a child and that night Cas was mindful of Meg's cleanness, of not wanting to dirty her with his bitterness and rage. His loneliness.  
And yet . . . he experienced a simultaneous need to take her like a savage, to desecrate her with his essence and scent . . . to mark her as his own so he would never forget what he had and what he could never have.

Castiel's strange, mixed feelings created an unbearable friction in him; one that would only diminish once he’d exploded in her depths. He glanced up. She’d been watching him roll the condom onto his painfully sensitive erection. When he took his cock into his hand, her tongue slicked her lower lip hungrily. Cas realised she thought he was just angry with the world and therefore needed it rough...Meg liked it rough. She was oblivious to the turmoil raging inside of him.  
He palmed a round ass cheek, lifting her flesh, parting her slit. They both gasped when he pressed the tip of his cock into her.  
He groaned, deep and savage, when he slid several inches into her tight, sultry heat. He pumped his hips, trying to be as gentle as his fevered, pounding blood would allow, silently praying for admittance to heaven. She was gratifyingly wet. He heard himself moving in her juices as he moved his cock into her snug channel.  
His blood boiled in his veins. He required release. “Let me in, lover. Let me in.”  
He slapped her bottom. Hard.  
She gasped. Heat rushed around his cock. He slid into her to the hilt, grunting in sublime pleasure. Her pussy clutched at him like a hot, silken fist. He grabbed her hips and began to pump without pause, starved to feel every nuance of her tight embrace. His shirt kept getting in the way, causing him to curse. He spread a hand on Meg’s arse, his cock fully submerged, and ripped at the buttons of his shirt. When he’d shoved aside the cloth, baring his chest and abdomen, he noticed Meg had once again turned her chin.  
Her hungry eyes made the skin on his torso prickle.  
He stroked her hips while his cock throbbed deep inside her. Their gazes held while he began to fuck her, his strokes long, thorough, and forceful. Her mouth dropped open and her face tightened every time his pelvis smacked against her arse and thighs.  
After a moment, a low moan exuded from her throat and she dropped her forehead to the desk. He used his hands to lift her hips slightly, allowing him to take her at a downward angle that made him growl in feral satisfaction.  
The final shreds of his restraint evaporated. He took her in a fluid, frenzied fuck. Her desk rattled and scooted a few inches on the floor. Maybe he could have stopped himself if she protested his forceful possession.  
Maybe. Cas didn’t know what the hell to expect from this frenzied, wild stranger that had taken over his body.  
But he needn’t have worried about her compliance. His wife whimpered and moaned in pleasure. She bucked her hips eagerly. Despite the fact that he liked her display of eagerness, he swatted her butt. His cock leapt in her tight sheath at the smacking sound of his palm against firm flesh.  
“Keep still, lover,” he grated out. “I’m about to lose control as it is.”  
He began fucking her again with long strokes, his face clenched tight in an agony of bliss. Still, he wanted more of her, was wild to find some secret in her darkest depths.  
He pressed her chest and belly flat to the desk and lifted his knee, rising up partially over her. He placed his knee on the desk and fucked her with deep, short, frantic strokes, his eyes rolling back into his head at the delicious friction the new angle provided him.  
Meg mewled in stunned pleasure. This was not like her husband at all, the timid heroin addict turned professor.  
“I want you to cum with me,” he muttered as he thrust madly. He slid his hand to the front of her, his finger burrowing between her legs, seeking out her most sensitive flesh, needing her to share some measure of the burning inferno about to consume him.  
His curse was an acknowledgement of a blessing. She was wetter than a man could imagine in his most illicit fantasies. But Cas kept having flashes of it being Dean bent over the desk and her wetness although impressive, was not Dean's cock.  
When she cried out and he felt her begin to convulse in orgasm around his throbbing cock, a red haze of lust clouded his vision, the mindless nirvana he’d sought so desperately.  
He placed his foot back on the floor and grabbed her hips. He thrust again and again, jerking her hips toward him, his arm muscles straining as he served Meg’s sweet flesh to his raging cock.  
He bit his lip to stop himself from shouting when he came. He shook as he poured himself into the condom.  
“Meg, Meg,” he muttered between clenched teeth as wave after wave of blistering pleasure flooded his senses and all thought was blessedly erased from his brain.  
He fell down over her, gasping for air, feeling raw and exposed, like a fish tossed up on the beach. She’d turned her head, resting her right cheek on the desk. She panted, but nowhere near as hard as he did. He was in good shape, but Christ . . . fucking while feeling the guilt he had, had been like racing toward heaven with the devil fast on his heels.  
He pressed his forehead to her temple, wanting the small contact with her while his body recovered from the raging storm. He wanted to hold her, but his heart and lungs demanded their due, paralyzing him for a moment.  
By slow degrees, he returned to himself. She shifted and murmured softly, lifting her chin and brushing her lips across his cheek. 

“Where did that come from?”  
“I have no idea...” Castiel panted, looking into Meg's eyes and wanting more than anything to apologise to his beautiful wife for the feelings he was concealing. He loved Meg, to the ends of the earth, but Dean was a whole new planet, a whole new galaxy a whole new dimension that Castiel longed to explore...


End file.
